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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648650">Wicked</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithlessone/pseuds/faithlessone'>faithlessone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stormheart - (M!Trevelyan/Cassandra) [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Wicked Grace (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:48:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithlessone/pseuds/faithlessone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of training, Brennan gets dragged into a game of Wicked Grace with certain members of his Inner Circle. Hijinks ensue!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cassandra Pentaghast/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stormheart - (M!Trevelyan/Cassandra) [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wicked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not that he’s been avoiding Varric’s invitations to play Wicked Grace. Really, the whole of his Inner Circle could do with more excuses to relax and enjoy each other’s company. It’s just that… given the option, recently he’s been much more inclined to spend his time with one person in particular. </p><p>Tonight, he wants to do the same.</p><p>It has been a long day of training with Commander Helaine. His barriers are still not what they could be, and she’s had some of the other mage recruits flinging spells at him from all angles, all day. He’s been looking forward to a quiet evening with Cassandra and a book in front of the fire followed by an early night, since he woke to find her gone to drills already. </p><p>However, his love is not in his room, as he’d prefer her to be, nor the hall, nor Cullen’s tower, nor her loft…</p><p>(Though he <em>is</em> pleased to see that the new cushions he’d had Josephine order from Val Royeaux have finally arrived, and are now clustered beside her window. Very cosy.)  </p><p>He is walking back past the Herald’s Rest, which is almost… <em>suspiciously</em> quiet for this time of the evening, when the door opens, revealing Varric, with a warm grin on his face. </p><p>“There you are! I was just about to come look for you. Can’t start without you.” </p><p>“Start what?” he asks, though he’s entirely certain what the dwarf is asking of him, and he does, just for a moment, consider trying to run away. </p><p>“No, no, not giving you a chance to get out of it again. Come on. Seeker’s already inside.” </p><p>Varric firmly grabs him by the wrist and pulls him through the door. A lone table is set up in front of the fireplace, already set with cards and drinks, in the unusually empty tavern. The grouping is… somewhat mismatched, but he’s glad to see Cassandra there, as promised. </p><p>“I found him, Ruffles,” Varric declares, sinking into the chair between Dorian and Cullen. “Deal him in!”  </p><p>“I do hope I recall the rules,” Josephine notes, shuffling the deck with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “It’s been <em>ages</em> since I’ve played a game of Wicked Grace.”  </p><p>Brennan doesn’t believe her in the slightest.  </p><p>“Grab a seat,” Varric adds. “We’re ready to start.”  </p><p>The last empty chair is between Cassandra and Josephine, which he takes gratefully, leaning over to kiss his love on the cheek as he sits. She gives him an affectionate scowl in return, before returning to glaring at her cards, and he wonders how Varric had persuaded her into this. Offers of more <em>Swords &amp; Shields</em>, perhaps? </p><p>It’s been a good couple of years since he last played, not since the Circle. The game was a popular pastime in the evenings before lights out; played for trinkets or favours rather than money. Absently he wonders whatever happened to the small figurine of Andraste in armour that he once won from his classmate Ennis on a particularly good hand. It had been on a pouch on his belt at the Conclave, but gone when he woke up. Lost to the Fade, perhaps…  </p><p>“We playing cards, or what?” Bull cuts in, distracting him.  </p><p>“Are three drakes better than a pair of swords?” Cassandra asks. “Ugh, I can never remember.”  </p><p>Varric grins. “Seeker, remember how I said, ‘Don’t show anyone your hand’? That rule includes announcing it to the table.”  </p><p>“There’s a crown on his head,” Cole notes, staring at the cards in his hand. “But a sword too. His head didn’t want either.”  </p><p>Varric sighs fondly. “Don’t talk to the face cards, kid.”  </p><p>Cullen tries to get up. “You seem to have enough people. I have a thousand things to do.”  </p><p>Dorian stops him. “Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming. Give it a try.”  </p><p>“Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it’s you.”  </p><p>Josephine smiles. “Dealer starts. Oh… I believe… I’ll start at… Three coppers! Do you think that’s too daring? Maybe I’ll make it one… No! Boldness! Three it is.”  </p><p>This makes him yet more certain that Josephine is employing her bard skills to conceal her true proficiency. The naïveté is just a little too <em>affected</em> for the ambassador of the Inquisition.  </p><p>Bull knocks over a pile of coins as he leans forwards. “Seriously? Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home.”  </p><p>Blackwall tosses a coin into the middle of the table, sending Josephine a nervous smile. “Sounds good. I’m in.”  </p><p>“Bolder the better, right?” Dorian adds. “I’m in.”  </p><p>“Me too.” Varric tosses his own coin into the pile before looking up at Brennan. “Well? Are you in?”  </p><p>He debates his answer for a moment. Should he follow Josephine’s example and feign inexperience? No, judging by Cassandra’s reaction to her hand, she may not appreciate the lie. Better to be honest, and have a little fun. His previous weariness starts to fade into the back of his mind.  </p><p>Glancing around the table, he evaluates his competition. Josephine, Bull and Varric are likely to be the strongest. Aside from Josephine’s subterfuge, he has no doubt the dwarf has a whole deck up his sleeves, and the qunari has proved himself to be skilled player of whatever game he chooses. Dorian is a wildcard, as he is in almost all situations, but he could be tricky. Blackwall is too honourable to be any good at bluffing, and the way he keeps glancing at Josephine over his cards suggests he probably has his mind on… things other than the game. Cole, he surmises, will either somehow manage to win every hand, or not play at all. Cullen doesn’t seem particularly interested in playing, and likely will concede as soon as he thinks he can slip away. And Cassandra… well, he doesn’t think her lack of knowledge is insincere, but he has no doubt her luck might help her. </p><p>“I’m in, and raising another silver.”  </p><p>Cullen scoffs. “You haven’t even looked at your cards!”  </p><p>“Our illustrious leader is betting we’re bluffing,” Varric explains with a grin. </p><p>He gives what he hopes is taken as an enigmatic smile, and picks up his cards. Not the best hand he could have asked for, but an acceptable one. Certainly worth the raise. He winces anyway, just the smallest quirk of his eyebrows, and hides the satisfaction he feels when Cullen smiles at him. </p><p>The first few hands pass as expected. Bull takes the first, Varric the second, Josephine the third and fourth. The fifth goes to him, in what he is certain must be a little divine intervention. Cole, as imagined, soon gives up playing at all, preferring instead to talk to himself and occasionally steal a card or two from the deck. Which certainly makes things more interesting. The others make valiant attempts, but their coin piles steadily dwindle. Ale flows freely, as do the tales, and everyone begins to relax. </p><p>Except Cassandra. </p><p>Her brow furrows as they look at the sixth deal of cards, her lips moving silently. He puts down his own (an absolutely terrible set that he doubts will get much better with the remainder of the draw) and slips his hand under the table to rest on her knee. She startles a little at the touch, looking over at him. </p><p>“Are you all right?” he whispers, tilting his head towards hers as Varric and Bull get into a light-hearted but loud argument over something unimportant. </p><p>“Angels are the highest ranking, yes?” she whispers back. </p><p>He nods, restraining a smile when she turns back and grumbles at her cards. </p><p>Blackwall wins the hand, which comes as much of a shock to him as to anyone else. Brennan fancies, though, that there may be a slight twinkle in Josephine’s eye. He wouldn’t put it past the former bard to have engineered a small victory for him. </p><p>(Josephine, of course, takes the seventh hand.) </p><p>He declines the eighth deal, sliding his chair closer to Cassandra’s and peeking over her arm at her fan of cards. </p><p>“No doubles!” Bull objects, accompanying his words with a fist slammed on the table. </p><p>“It isn’t as if she could be doing any worse,” Dorian says soothingly. “And perhaps her bad luck will rub off on him.” </p><p>“Not the only thing she’s rubbing off on him,” Varric notes, <em>sotto voce</em>, but half the table laugh anyway. Cassandra’s cheeks flame, though with embarrassment or anger, he isn’t entirely certain. </p><p>“Cullen!” he declares, drawing attention away from her. “Bull, Dorian and Josephine have told us some tales, I think it’s your turn. There must have been some hilarity in your templar training to tell us.” </p><p>The commander tries to protest, staring intently at his cards, but Josephine and Varric take up the cause. </p><p>“Oh, yes please, Commander.” </p><p>“Come on, Curly, or I’ll tell a few tales of Kirkwall I know you won’t like. For example, the story with the rabbits on the Wounded Coast?” </p><p>Cullen gives him a somewhat threatening look, but hesitates long enough for Varric to start. </p><p>“So, it was high summer-“ </p><p>“<em>Kinloch</em>!” Cullen interrupts, a note of desperation in his voice. “Let me tell you a story, about <em>Kinloch</em>. I had been at the Circle for two months, one of three templar recruits. There was a tradition, among the older templars. Hazing, of a sort…” </p><p>Though he’s sure that Cullen’s story is interesting – despite his reputation for being a serious and uptight sort of person, he’s found that Cullen has a rather devious sense of humour – he can’t help tuning it out in favour of carefully, slowly sliding his hand up Cassandra’s thigh. </p><p>She lets him get further than he imagined she would, before her fingers close around his, pushing him back to a far more respectable resting place on her knee. He turns instead to tracing hearts and flowers on her leg with his finger. At first, she doesn’t react, and he wonders how much she can actually feel through her leathers, but eventually she traces a heart on the back of his hand. When he dares to look away from Cullen, she gives him a soft smile. It’s the first he’s seen from her all night, and he can’t help but grin back. </p><p>“The poor recruit ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers!” Cullen continues, as Brennan tunes back into his story, regretting it ever so slightly, as this seems like a rather good tale. He’ll have to get it out of Cullen again later. “And this… profound silence fell over the hall, as seventy mages and thirty templars all turned to stare at once. Then a slow round of applause began. And spread. Until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation.”  </p><p>Josephine giggles. “What… what did he do?”  </p><p>“Saluted. Turned on his heel. And marched out like he was in full armour.”  </p><p>The whole table bursts into laughter.  </p><p>“He did not!” Cassandra exclaims.  </p><p>“Good man,” Dorian notes.  </p><p>“You’re shitting us!” Bull guffaws.  </p><p>“That’s how you know it’s true!” Varric interjects, grinning. “I could never put that in a book. Too unlikely.”  </p><p>“I preferred the story with the rabbit,” Cole says, half to himself and half to the Angel of Death card that he currently has spinning between his fingers. Josephine gently takes it away from him and shuffles it back into the deck. “There should be more stories with rabbits.” </p><p>The spirit boy’s comment sparks a memory. </p><p>“I’ve got one for you,” Brennan says, filling in the lull. “It was the night of my Harrowing. I was standing in the middle of a room full of Templars and Senior Enchanters. As the Knight-Commander read me the Chant, I got the nagging feeling something was <em>missing</em>. But I ignored it. I was an excellent student, a favourite of half my teachers, and the bane of the other half for asking far too many questions.” He pauses as Varric, Bull and Dorian laugh, the others politely restraining themselves. “I know, I know, I haven’t changed a bit. What I mean to say is, I had no doubt that my Harrowing would be a success. So I ignored the nagging feeling. The ritual was performed, and I went into the Fade. It was only as I ‘woke’, for lack of a better word, that I realised what I had forgotten.” </p><p>“What was it?” Josephine asks, curious. </p><p>“I can only think of one thing it could have been,” Dorian says with a knowing smile. </p><p>“Hush, you. You’ll all find out in good time.” </p><p>Dorian presses a finger to his lips for a moment, still smiling. </p><p>“As I was saying, I woke in the Fade, and decided to ignore it. The missing thing was not… important. Particularly. Especially with me presumably curled up on the floor of the Harrowing chamber. I was to find and defeat a demon before I could wake up and pass the test. I found myself on a shoreline, looking out across an eerie, greenish sea, with an eerie, greenish forest behind me. A group of rabbits came up to me. Not attacking, just… gambolling about, nibbling at the wispy spindleweed at the shoreline. Then they went further up the beach, and, well, I was in a bit of a hurry to pass my test. Eager. I guessed they were supposed to lure me to the demon, so I followed. They led me towards a cottage, right on the edge of the beach, and…”  </p><p>He trails off, suddenly remembering the next part of the story, the details of it, and how much teasing is likely to follow. Taking a sip of his ale to disguise the hesitation, he considers lying about what he found, skipping straight to the main point of his story, but… it won’t make a great deal of sense without it. His companions will figure out he omitted details.  </p><p>“Well, out with it, Firefly,” Varric prompts. “Don’t leave us hanging. What was at the cottage?”  </p><p>“A woman,” he admits. “Or rather, a desire demon, in the form of a woman.”  </p><p>Dorian leans in. “Come now, Trevelyan, you can do better than that. What kind of beauty did the demons tempt you with? Details, please. Specific as you can.”  </p><p>He can <em>feel </em>his cheeks beginning to burn, and unfortunately there are too many candles in the room to hide it.   </p><p>Cassandra rests her hand over his. “Go on.”  </p><p>“Tall, dark-haired, beautiful, and chopping wood with a large axe,” he reveals, forcing himself to grin to cover the mortification he feels.   </p><p>The whole table laughs again.  </p><p>“No wonder you fell for our Cassandra so hard,” Josephine teases.  </p><p>“If it’s even true,” Bull scoffs. “He’d hardly tell us if he saw some petite little blonde in lace frills, would he?”  </p><p>“It’s true!” Brennan insists, given that it <em>is</em>.   </p><p>“What did she do?” Blackwall asks, distracting them.  </p><p>“Oh, the usual. Tried to seduce me, to get me into the cottage. I refused, of course. Sent lightning at her. I was without my staff, given the situation, but even without it I am hardly defenceless. And the Fade is possible to manipulate. So yes, lightning.” </p><p>“I’ll bet it didn’t enjoy that,” Bull laughs. </p><p>“She did not. Suddenly, I was caught up in a net, like one of those snare traps you use to catch wild animals. All tangled up in a web, my legs caught, my arms, my neck… I started struggling, of course. Tried to rip everything off of me.” </p><p>Dorian stifles a chuckle behind his hand, and then Cullen, seeming to realise the truth of the situation, catches his eye, and starts laughing too. The other faces around the table are justifiably slower to understand. </p><p>He continues. </p><p>“Eventually, I managed to free myself from the net. Killed her with more of my lightning, and, as she vanished, I woke in the Harrowing chamber, my test completed.” </p><p>“And what, pray tell, was the state of you?” Dorian says, feigning seriousness. </p><p>He pauses for effect. </p><p>“Stark naked, with a templar’s sword at my throat.” </p><p>A moment of stunned silence falls over the table, before they all start laughing. Bull pounds on the table with his fist again, sending mugs, cards and coin tumbling. </p><p>“Yes, in my dreaming confusion, I had mistaken my apprentice robes for the snare. Had I been wearing my smallclothes, I imagine it would not have been so terrible, but… alas, as Dorian no doubt guessed, I had been in a hurry to dress for my test, distracted by my nerves and excitement, and had forgotten them.” </p><p>“And the templars assumed you had… succumbed to the temptation of the desire demon,” Cullen adds, with the sureness of experience. “Maker’s breath, you’re lucky they didn’t rend your head from your shoulders. If it had been Kirkwall…” </p><p>“Luckily, it was Ostwick,” he cuts in, trying to keep the mood from darkening. “So, despite the fact I had been writhing naked on the floor of the Harrowing chamber, I was apparently not possessed. The First Enchanter stepped in, and asked me to explain what had happened. I explained, they declared me passed, and handed me my robe to put back on. Then they put me in the Ostwick Circle history book, which the First Enchanter kept under lock and key, and <em>never</em> spoke of it again.”  </p><p>Varric laughs. “Not bad! You don’t mind if I steal that one, do you?”  </p><p>“That was <em>scandalous</em>. It would ruin the Inquisition if anyone found out,” Josephine interrupts, though her tone suggests otherwise. “Tell it again?”  </p><p>“I… think we need another round of drinks,” he suggests instead.  </p><p>Cullen smiles. “I’ll get them. Don’t start without me!”  </p><p>When he returns, they finally play the eighth hand. Cassandra keeps a death grip on her cards, no matter what sort of set she has. He leans close, one arm around her, whispering suggestions and tactics into her ear. It certainly makes the game more fun, even if the hand goes to Varric again. </p><p>Dorian takes the next, and immediately bows out of the game. </p><p>“End on a high, darlings, that’s what I always say,” he explains, sitting back in his chair with a fresh bottle of wine. “But I’ll stay for the entertainment.” </p><p>After that, the players slowly dwindle as they reach their limits. Blackwall first, then Bull, then finally Varric, who pushes aside his cup to unfurl a roll of parchment and start jotting down notes. </p><p>“This will make a <em>great</em> chapter in your book, Firefly,” he remarks. </p><p>The following hand starts with an excellent draw for Cassandra (and by extension, himself). </p><p>… <em>suspiciously</em> excellent. </p><p>Cassandra’s eyes widen, despite his several reminders about controlling her face, and he sneaks a look at Josephine. Though her expression is vaguely amused, as it has been the entire game, there is a certain… light in her eyes. Was she waiting for the field to thin before working her subterfuge in their favour? Or does she have a longer play in mind? </p><p>Either way, he tightens his arm around Cassandra’s waist, leaning close and using his free hand to tap the card that she should discard on her next turn. She rests her head briefly against his, smiling when he tilts to kiss her neck. </p><p>“Your distractions won’t work on me,” Cullen grumbles under his breath. </p><p>Dorian smirks. “Really? I’m rather enjoying it.” </p><p>Cassandra fixes him with a glare that makes Varric chuckle quietly and make another note on his parchment, and then Josephine calls their attention back to the game. </p><p>It’s a fairly swift hand. The ambassador plays the Angel of Death before the third draw, and when the cards are laid out… </p><p>“We won?” Cassandra asks, a little disbelieving, looking to him for confirmation. </p><p>He nods. </p><p>“I have never… <em>Oh</em>.” </p><p>Her smile is so pleased that it almost makes him want to abandon the rest of the game and take her back to his room, but a pleasant evening with his friends is increasingly rare. It would be rude to break it up early. </p><p>(He can’t resist giving her a celebratory kiss, to catcalls and cheers from the rest of the table.) </p><p>On the next deal, Cassandra follows Dorian’s example and waves the fresh cards away, resting her head against Brennan’s shoulder. “I am out. Keep playing if you will.” </p><p>He looks at the pile of coin in front of him, larger than it had been a hand ago, but smaller than he’d started with, and then looks up and catches the fervent shine of Cullen’s eyes. </p><p>Taking the cards Josephine is proffering, he smiles. </p><p>“Go on, one more then.” </p><p>It’s another long hand. They draw and discard cards with a heightened level of focus, watching each other closely for clues. Cullen, despite his newfound enthusiasm for the game, is an almost distressingly open book. He tries to hide his reactions, but he can’t help smirking at a good card, and his arm twitches as if he longs to rub the back of his neck when things aren’t going his way. </p><p>Eventually, though… </p><p>“And the dealer takes everything! I win again,” Josephine coos, scooping the pot into her pile for what <em>feels</em> like the hundredth time that night, even if it’s probably only the tenth or twelfth. She has certainly won the most hands by far.  </p><p>“Deal again,” Cullen insists, leaning over the table. “I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”  </p><p>“Commander!” she demurs. “Everyone knows a lady has no tells.”  </p><p>She does. He’s noticed at least five or six different tells over the course of the evening. Tapping her fingernails on the table, adjusting the scarf around her neck, scratching her ear… The only problem is that none of the tells actually seem to relate to the contents of her cards. She’s been just as likely to fiddle with her hair on a bad hand as on a good one. A common misdirection technique, as he (at least) is well aware.  </p><p>“Then let’s see if your good fortune lasts one more hand.”  </p><p>Poor Cullen.  </p><p>However… he <em>does</em> rather like the idea of seeing how far the usually buttoned-up commander will go against their wily ambassador.  </p><p>“I’m not losing any more coin to Josephine,” he says, pulling back a little from the table and slipping his hand under to rest it on Cassandra’s knee again. “But I have <em>got</em> to see this.”  </p><p>As predicted, it takes a matter of only two hands for Cullen’s meagre purse to be rendered empty of coin.  </p><p>“Time to make a tactical retreat, Cullen,” Cassandra suggests, a smirk playing around her lips. </p><p>“You’re not going to win against her, Curly,” Varric agrees. </p><p>They are quickly shushed by both Bull and Dorian, who are eager to see how far the commander can fall. Privately, he agrees with them, but it probably isn’t ‘Inquisitorial’ behaviour to undermine Cullen’s authority for the sake of a card game.  </p><p>“Deal <em>again</em>,” Cullen repeats.  </p><p>“And what will you bet?” Josephine asks, innocently, as if almost the entire contents of his purse isn’t currently sat in front of her.  </p><p>Cullen’s eyes dart around the table, and he can tell that the commander is resisting the urge to ask for a loan. Finally, he breaks. “Can anyone…”  </p><p>“Oh, no, Curly,” Varric interrupts, grinning. “You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out. Ruffles, you’ll play for other stakes, right?”  </p><p>“Of course, if the commander has something to trade.”  </p><p>He pats down his armour, and retrieves a handful of bits and pieces from the pouches on his belt. Nothing of value, of significance. Josephine tuts.  </p><p>“I do admire that cloak of yours,” she suggests. “It must be so warm. Quite the thing for this draughty old castle.”  </p><p>Cullen sets his jaw, and unfastens the cloak, pushing aside the flagons and pitchers to lay it on the table in front of him.  </p><p>“I’m only doing this because I am <em>certain</em> that I will win, Lady Ambassador.”  </p><p>Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t.  </p><p>The next thing to go is his breastplate, and then the rest of his armour, and then his boots, and then (to Dorian’s specific delight), his shirt…  </p><p>“I can’t watch much more of this,” Cassandra grumbles, emptying the last pitcher into her cup.  </p><p>“Don’t worry, Seeker,” Varric says, with a hearty chuckle. “He hasn’t got much more to lose.”  </p><p>“You’re sure you want to do this?” Brennan asks, leaning over the table. “Josephine’s the best <em>I’ve</em> ever played against, certainly. There’s no shame in admitting defeat to a worthy opponent.” </p><p>“No, I have this,” Cullen insists, his jaw clenched so hard that Brennan is amazed he can speak at all. “Deal again.”  </p><p>Josephine delicately raises her eyebrow, and deals the cards again. “For the… <em>remainder</em> of your clothing, Commander?”  </p><p>This hand takes a little longer, and just for a moment, Brennan thinks Josephine might have been convinced to throw the game to preserve what little remains of Cullen’s dignity, but then he lays down the Angel of Death.  </p><p>“Oh dear,” Josephine says with a small smile, laying out her cards. “I believe I win again.”  </p><p>With a grimace, Cullen slips his trousers off under the table, and hands Josephine her prize.  </p><p>“Don’t say a word, dwarf,” he grinds out, glaring at Varric, who does (to his credit) seem to be restraining his glee.  </p><p>“I tried to warn you, Curly.”  </p><p>“Never bet against an Antivan, Commander.”  </p><p>“I’m leaving,” Cassandra adds. “I don’t want to witness our commander’s walk of shame back to the barracks.”  </p><p>“Well, I do!” Dorian says.  </p><p>“It comes off!” Cole notes, a tone of genuine wonder in his voice. “I didn’t know it came off…”  </p><p>“Come on, everyone,” Brennan commands, getting up from the table. “Time to go.”  </p><p>Dorian makes a small noise of disappointment, but he follows suit when the others get up from the table and depart for their rooms, leaving Cullen behind. </p><p>Cassandra slips her hand into his as they cross the upper courtyard towards the steps of the keep with Varric, Dorian, Blackwall and Josephine. </p><p>Josephine is wearing Cullen’s cloak. Blackwall trails a half-step behind her with the rest of her winnings piled in his arms. </p><p>“You are… going to give those back, aren’t you?” he asks. </p><p>She smiles enigmatically. “Perhaps.” </p><p>“Ruffles…” Varric has a gentle warning note in his voice. “He’ll never play with us again, you know. And do you really want it to affect his work?” </p><p>Josephine makes a considering noise in the back of her throat as they start to ascend the steps. “True. It is a pity. This cloak <em>is</em> very warm, I was correct. No matter. Let him fret for a night, I will send it all back to him at dawn.” </p><p>Though he trusts his ambassador, the way she carefully straightens the bear fur that is currently drowning her relatively slim shoulders makes him a little wary. He makes a mental note to check in the morning that she has, in fact, kept her word. </p><p>She and Blackwall slip away together as soon as they enter the keep, and Dorian soon follows, heading to his own room. Varric hangs back a little. </p><p>“You up for another game, when this is all over?” he asks. </p><p>“I don’t think we should wait <em>that</em> long,” Brennan counters. “As we get closer to the end, we’re all going to need to blow off a little more steam. A few hands every now and again would be good for everyone’s morale.” </p><p>Varric nods with a sage smile. “It’ll take me a while to talk Cullen into it. Maybe I’ll work the ‘revenge’ angle. I’m sure I can scrounge up some other players though, if it’s going to be a regular thing.” </p><p>“Perhaps pairs?” Cassandra muses. “Should anyone be reluctant to play alone.” </p><p>The dwarf gives her a knowing grin. “Whatever you say, Seeker.” </p><p>He smiles too. “Sounds good. Maybe… <em>don’t</em> invite Leliana though. I’m not sure the Inquisition would survive a table with both her and Josephine. Especially working together.” </p><p>Varric chuckles at that. “You might be right on that one, Firefly. Now run along, my old bones need some sleep.” </p><p>They say good night, and then he and Cassandra continue across the now empty hall towards his quarters. </p><p>The fire is burning low when they reach the top of the stairs, the curtains drawn across the stained-glass windows. He ignores the fresh pile of reports and requests on his desk, choosing instead to draw Cassandra into his arms, kissing her properly for the first time since she had slipped out of his bed that morning for training. </p><p>“I missed you today,” he breathes when they break apart. “Is that mad?” </p><p>She smiles. “I must admit, I was surprised that you arranged the game tonight. And that you did not come and invite me yourself.” </p><p>He frowns. “What?” </p><p>“The game. Tonight. It was your idea, wasn’t it?” </p><p>“No, it wasn’t.”</p><p>Pushing back from him a little, she stares into his eyes, her brow creasing. “It… wasn’t? Ugh, that sneaky dwarf!” </p><p>Suddenly the mystery of how Varric convinced Cassandra into playing is solved. He can’t help laughing, just a little, even as her expression sours. </p><p>“Hey, it might not have been my plan for the evening, but at least you enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?” </p><p>She scoffs, and then relents. “When we were playing together, yes.” </p><p>He agrees with that one, and grins at her. “Next time, I’ll teach you how to <em>cheat</em>.” </p><p>With her face a mask of feigned outrage, she punches him lightly in the shoulder. It shouldn’t hurt, but he’d been so drained from training earlier, he hadn’t had the energy to heal his bruises (or the humility to get them healed by someone else). And after an evening of carefully keeping his expression clear and his reactions dulled, he can’t help wincing. </p><p>“What is it?” she asks, concerned. </p><p>“Nothing! Just… long day. Extra training with Commander Helaine.” </p><p>“Spirit blade? You know what I’ve told you about people being in melee range of you.” </p><p>He smiles. “Barriers. I’m… still surprisingly bad at them.” </p><p>She raises an eyebrow. “I could have told you that for free. Perhaps I could… kiss it all better?” </p><p>Drawing her close again, he smiles.</p><p>“Now, that <em>is </em>what I planned for this evening.” </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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